A Check for a Billion Page 9

  We were on the third of the remaining planets. Eunice insisted we verify the admin’s words, but our efforts gained us nothing apart from disappointment and loss of time.

  “Excellent.” I tried to speak calmly and avoid argument. “Now let’s think about what we’ll do next.”

  “We should stop dealing with these assholes in general. They change the rules on the go!”

  Eunice’s blasters came to life and a lengthy burst of plasma slammed into the mountain range, shearing off one of the peaks. I sighed again. I knew I had to be patient because I had already read a lot of clever books about pregnancy and knew that it often had an adverse effect not only on a woman’s mood, but also on her brain activity. And this was even if she was a hardened veteran. Hormones, you see. Suddenly Eunice relented, turned to me and, burying her face in my shoulder, burst into tears. Well, here we are. Honestly, she’s like a child who was promised a toy and then didn’t get it. Although… If we recall that this particular toy is worth a billion real credits, then I guess I want to bury my face in my shoulder and cry too. We had thought that we would have the check today!

  “We need to find the Zatrathi planet,” I began to think aloud, voicing platitudes and absentmindedly stroking my wife’s marine armor.

  “Easy for you to say! You’ve seen it!” she complained in her turn. “That thing playfully smashed a whole fleet!”

  “That wasn’t it. You are confusing the Zatrathi Queen with the Zatrathi homeworld,” I corrected. “We need to find the planet and then we need to figure out how to get on it.”

  “So we’ll catch a brainworm and beat the coordinates out of it. Too bad you turned the last one over to the Precians! Now we won’t get my check because of you!”

  Her moods were changing with blinding speed. A second ago Eunice had been sobbing about how bad everything was and now she’d found someone to blame for it all. I think my patience had reached its limit.

  “Sit down!” I snapped, and the girl, who hadn’t expected this kind of tone, plunked down on the nearest stone in bewilderment. “What are you? A professional gamer or a pregnant woman?”

  Eunice blushed and opened her mouth to get more air before answering this question.

  “I…”

  After this important pronoun, I hurried to interrupt her:

  “There you go! So remember it! Let’s get down to business! One more time. How can we locate that planet?”

  “We need its coordinates,” my wife repeated in a completely calm tone. Though I didn’t dare show it, I was delighted that my tactic worked.

  “Agreed, and yet Zatrathi ships don’t contain them. Brainiac downloaded the data from the flying fortress and there wasn’t so much as a hint of them. Whether or not it will be possible to ‘beat’ them out of a brainworm is a question in and of itself. They could easily have some mental defense.”

  “This isn’t Runlustia. There’s no mental defense in Galactogon,” Eunice reminded me and asked me to show her all the missions I had in my log. I sat down next to her and we began to pore over each item on the list, generating ideas as we went.

  “The only thread is the Zatrathi repair bases,” Eunice concluded. “They should have a ship repair schedule. After all, the new ones launch only from the homeworld, correct?”

  “That’s what I’ve gathered from the info I have, yes.”

  “Consequently, there should be at least some connection between the homeworld and the repair planets. If we find one, we’ll be able to unwind the rest of the riddle.”

  “I agree. So, we know for sure that the Fighting Breed goons found one such repair base. I have its coordinates. We can go check it out.”

  “We can’t go there without support,” Eunice said reasonably.

  “I will discuss this issue with Vargen…Hold on, there is another option! The Zatrathi are the Uldans’ progeny. This is a confirmed fact. What if we follow that to its logical conclusion? Lumara passed me the coordinates of one planet. That’s the first thing. I also have the coded coordinates of the Uldan base. That’s the other thing. All we have to do is find a way to the Corsican and get the Uldan coordinate converter from him. There are two planets with Uldan storage facilities, after all. Of course they are sure to be defended now, but if we want it badly enough we should be able to get on at least one of them.”

  This last realization was the most unpleasant one. After the Zatrathi had seen their destroyed facility for training ship captains, they had garrisoned each ‘nebula planet’ with three flying fortresses each. Vargen and I had audaciously flown by to assess our potential profits and we had barely managed to get away with our hides intact. It was a good thing we had used my new orbship. The Zatrathi couldn’t keep up in terms of speed and quickly fell behind, allowing us to enter hyperspace. Still, it was clear that our access to other Zatrathi training facilities was closed to us. We had naturally shared this info with Ash, but three flying fortresses require a giant raid of twenty to thirty cruisers, some of which would have to have Yamato cannons on them. This weapon in general had become incredibly important all of a sudden. Thus, Kiddo — who had demonstrated her skill at using her Yamato cannon — was suddenly in high demand. Everyone remembered about her existence and wanted to be her friend.

  “The Corsican is a good option.” Eunice’s mood changed again, now to the pensively-enigmatic. What I liked most of all was that this did not affect the constructive nature of our conversation, though she did go off on tangents a little more than usual. “What you say makes a lot of sense…If I were the contest organizers, I would think as follows: It is known that you have the coordinates of a certain planet. So I would have cleared it right away. Consequently, there is no point in searching there. It’s empty. Well, maybe some little trifle but no more. So I don’t buy that option. The repair base is also an obvious approach, but you still need to find it, and then capture it. It’s difficult and unpredictable. That will make it a good backup plan. As for the Corsican — that’s a different conversation altogether. Players can’t just go find that NPC and offer to work with him. They need to gain rapport with him first. That’s it, Lex! We need to meet with the Corsican! That’s priority number one! Let’s go!”

  Eunice jumped up, as if she had seen the light at the end of the tunnel. But when I failed to follow her, she froze and fixed me with an inquisitive look.

  “Not so fast. Before we meet the Corsican, I need to reach pirate rank three. Otherwise he won’t even talk to us. And to do that, I need to finish Hilvar’s mission and find the video recording. That’s mission number one then.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that the planet we need is in the former Delvian Empire. And I have a nagging suspicion that we can only try to get onto it once. If the Zatrathi found that system, which I have no doubt they did, they will not give us a second chance, as badly as we may need it. They’ll post a flying fortress in the system and that will be that. And this means that we will have to pull off the mission at first go and with good fire support!”

  “Vargen again?” Eunice guessed.

  “In the flesh. But first, I want to see his people in action. So at the immediate moment we are not going to deal with the Uldan planet, the Zatrathi repair base, or even the Corsican.”

  “I don’t understand…What do you have in mind?” Eunice asked impatiently as I paused at the culmination of my deductive chain. Instead of answering, I checked the time. It was nine in the morning. Vargen was supposed to wake up and enter the game. I got out my PDA and dialed his number.

  “Greetings to you, oh great leader of Liberium!”

  “Yeah, yeah, hope you’re well too, Surgeon. Get on with it,” Vargen muttered in displeasure. “Just give me a second to take a seat. Your calls never end well. All right. What is it?”

  “Here’s the deal: Fighting Breed have three B-class cruisers on their base in the Galvar system. Those boys owe me, and I want to relieve them of any unnecessary worries. In short, I need fir
e support.”

  “I was hoping that time would make you more tolerant of other people’s mistakes,” grinned Vargen. “Will Aalor with his assault team suffice?”

  “Yes, I’ll have my people with me too, so we should be able to manage. When can I expect them?”

  “Closer to lunchtime. He’s busy at the moment. Who are your people? We don’t work with just anyone,” Vargen warned.

  “I’ll tell you that later,” I avoided answering for the moment. “We’ll meet on Belket. By the way, do you need anything from Hansa’s third list? I can offer a 15% discount. Minus two percent commission. Think about it.”

  “I’ll think about it. Just make sure to get back to me about my question, Surgeon.” Really, the head of Liberium was too principled for being the leader of such a large guild. Hanging up, I encountered Eunice’s surprised look. She also wanted to know who ‘our people’ were.

  Indicating with a gesture that everything would be clarified in short order, I dialed another number on my PDA.

  “Marina, how are you?” As soon as I uttered the name, Eunice grimaced. I don’t know what caused her dislike for Kiddo, but my wife always reacted like this whenever my pirate partner was mentioned.

  “I’m listening. Just hurry up.”

  “I miss Graykill. I can’t live without him. Will you let me hire him and his band of thirty marines for about six to seven hours today?”

  “How much?”

  “We can figure that out face-to-face, partner. I’ll be waiting for them on Belket around lunchtime.”

  “Okay,” Kiddo replied and hung up.

  “Do you have to involve her?”

  Marina’s curt tone did nothing to reassure Eunice. To the contrary, she now seemed like a boiling kettle to me. I would have to remove the lid before it blew off on its own. Slowly, stressing every word, I said:

  “We can only trust family. No one else. I don’t trust either Vargen or Kiddo. And yet her marines will be our insurance in case Aalor decides to betray us. I’ve seen what Graykill is capable of. Trust me, he will be invaluable. Come on. We’ll fly to Belket early and go check out their market. We might find something interesting.”

  Now that the plan was taking shape, my wife’s face brightened a little. The last sentence seemed to cheer her up too. It turned out that Eunice loved markets. Small markets, big markets, pop-up markets, crafts markets, black markets or slave markets. It didn’t matter what they were as long as there were merchants, wares and fellow shoppers. And not only did I learn that Eunice loved markets, I also learned what she did in them. For she went there not for the objects, but for the sensations. She liked the bustle, the ambience of commerce; she examined shop windows for lengthy periods, compared the goods and consulted with the talkative vendors. But the worst thing was that she loved to bargain! She haggled until she was in a stupor, hoarse, and red-eyed. Eunice would lose all control, knocking out the maximum possible discount from one victim after another and when an exhausted opponent, sprinkling ashes on his head and bemoaning his ruin, would finally give in and agree to her price, my wife would proclaim that she’d changed her mind and just walk away…I don’t know why. This aspect of Eunice’s personality remained a mystery to me.

  For me, shopping has always been about exchanging money for something specific. I came, I saw, I purchased. Even now I had a specific objective — I wanted to acquire the handcuffs I had worn on Grandar’s ship. According to Stan, the Rialto Bracelets were available to players, though they were not popular. On some planets, however, they were outright banned, and Belket was one such planet.

  We figured out where to buy contraband and headed out. Brainiac called me when the market was looming on the horizon.

  “Attention, Captain! I have detected two individuals tailing you. You picked them up the moment you left the dock.” By way of proof, Brainiac showed me the footage from my armor suit’s rearview camera. It was evident that the two Precians were professionals. If it weren’t for Brainiac, I would never have guessed that we were being followed. Diving into the crowd of idle customers, I tried to lose them. In vain. Every time I changed direction, the Precians hustled to get ahead of us and a couple of minutes later they would invariably come drifting through the crowd in front of us. Realizing that they knew the market better than we did, I simply went about my business until I spied an inconspicuous tent at the far corner of the market. If there were any prohibited items to buy around here, this would be the place. Eunice and I had agreed that she could get on with her bartering hobby once we had done everything we needed to do.

  The shop was empty. At first glance, the assortment of goods did not suggest any smuggled items. Conventional booster units for armor suits, extra armor plates and other cheap stuff. The catalogs, which lay scattered on the counter, offered some rare but unmarketable goods to order. Eunice took one catalog, flipped through it, and, chuckling, delved into the study of some object. No one seemed in a rush to sell anything to the store’s only visitors. The owner or the sales clerk was sorting something at the far counter without paying any attention to us. Peeking out of the tent, I checked for our pursuers and cursed to myself. What the hell was all this crap? We were constantly being harassed as of late and it wasn’t even clear why. Out in space it was that battlesphere — here it was a couple of suspicious individuals of Precian nationality. Pure espionage and intrigue.

  “Is the gentleman looking for something specific or just browsing?” the vendor squeaked from his place at the counter. I moved closer so as not to speak loudly. Two beady eyes examined me with interest from the store’s half-gloom, which was diluted by streetlight from the dusty window. An ordinary Precian — though with a very attentive and inquisitive look. I wondered how to broach the subject of the handcuffs without scaring him away.

  “The gentleman has not yet decided,” I replied, trying to flash him what I hoped was a meaningful glance. “My friend, do you have an emergency exit?”

  “No.” Pursing his lips in displeasure, the Precian angrily waved his hand. “Master Dow has nothing to hide from his customers! I always use the same entrance as they!”

  I nodded silently. It’s too bad. An emergency exit would come in handy. Next I tried unvarnished flattery.

  “Yes, I was told that you are a reliable Precian and that I should come see you if I had any special requests.”

  “Is that so?” Master Dow asked and turned to me completely, indicating that he was ready to hear me out. “What led you to me then?”

  “I am looking for something special,” I muttered softly. “Something a bit risqué, you could say…”

  “Aaah,” the vendor cooed understandingly and cast a passing glance at Eunice. “I think we understand each other.”

  A catalog appeared from under the counter as if from a magician’s hat. It was soiled from heavy use. Glad to see everything work out so quickly, I snatched it up and started flipping through it. My joy was premature.

  “What is this?!” It was a stupid question on my part, but I couldn’t hold it back when I saw the wares on offer.

  “What you asked for…” said the salesman, puzzled, retreating a couple of steps from me just in case. “Something risqué…”

  “I was looking for a pair of Rialto Bracelets — not this!” I tossed the catalog of toys onto the counter indignantly.

  “Hey now. This is a respectable establishment!” the Precian took offence for some reason, concealing his dirty catalog back under the counter.

  I smiled to myself. But of course! Judging by the inventory I had just seen, this place was as respectable as an ice cream parlor run by an overworked Snow White with seven dwarves smoking cigarettes out back. We had nothing more to do here.

  “Lex…” Eunice called me over — when an explosion in the distance interrupted her.

  The blasters on my shoulders automatically snapped to combat readiness even before I turned and ran to the exit, assessing the situation. All the market’s guards soared into the air and qui
ckly zoomed off somewhere outside the market. Another series of explosions thundered. It sounded like some kind of attack was underway.

  In a split second, the market grew empty. The vendors piled their goods into their shops and fled for their precious lives. The place had become a thieves’ paradise. Come and take whatever you want, only there was no one to do this. The buyers disappeared even before the vendors.

  The only ones who remained nonplussed by the thundering explosions were our pursuers. Standing in front of the store with their blasters drawn in plain view, they paid absolutely no attention to the sounds of combat in the distance.

  “What are we going to do, Lex?”

  I had no answer to this. A third Precian had joined our two tails. He stepped out from behind them and moved toward us at a leisurely pace, demonstrating an astounding confidence in his belief that I would not kill him. A Precian named Vardun. The cybernetic arm and scars all over his body piqued my interest.